


In a Name

by Veilder



Series: In Medias Res [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Families of Choice, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Identity Issues, POV Hank Anderson, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Warning: Hank's Potty Mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 05:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17574560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veilder/pseuds/Veilder
Summary: A simple question from Connor was all it took to upend Hank's day.





	In a Name

**Author's Note:**

> First off, big thanks to the folks over on the Detroit: New ERA server for drowning me in enough angst to churn out this fluffy monstrosity. (Come join us! It's only heartbreaking some of the time! https://discord.gg/W25vUtC )
> 
> And a big damn shoutout to my friend, [WingedPegasus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingedPegasus/pseuds/WingedPegasus), for being a pushy pusher who pushed me into posting this. And for beta-ing. And for staying up til 2 am helping me figure out how AO3 works... You rock, AP.

“Hank is short for Henry, isn’t it?”   
  
Hank looked up from blearily scrolling through his open cases to regard the android sitting across from him. Connor was staring, an expectant, eager expression gracing his features. _That goofy-ass face. Shit, who in CyberLife thought making him look like a fuckin nerd would be good for a detective?_   
  
Hank rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn. “What, your fancy scanners don’t tell you that shit?” he asked.   
  
Connor’s eyes went blank for a moment, no doubt scanning him once again. “No, Lieutenant, your registered file only shows Hank Michael Anderson. However, I cross-referenced your birth records against your professional files and found the discrepancy.”  
  
Hank held up a hand. “Whoa whoa whoa, why the fuck were you looking up my birth certificate?” No one had referred to him as Henry since his mother died. She was the only one he could possibly excuse calling him that, mainly because she only used it when he was in trouble and he would never _dare_ to go against her in a rage.   
  
But Connor stared him down, not a hint of guilt on his face. “I was researching human naming customs, Lieutenant. As your friend, I thought it acceptable to begin my research using your own history. Was I wrong to assume as much?”   
  
Goddammit, he was giving him those fuckin puppy dog eyes. Like hell Hank was gonna take a shot at him for snooping into his business now. For all the shit the two of them gave each other, Hank would never want to genuinely hurt Connor or try to stifle the curiosity he’d finally embraced in his deviancy. (The fact that he called Hank his friend wasn’t a huge deal or anything either, nope. Just his android partner embracing personal connections and growing emotionally. No big deal.) “Fuckin hell, kid. Nah, it’s fine. Just don’t you tell a damn soul that’s my legal name. I don’t like it, I don’t use it. We clear?”   
  
Connor nodded earnestly, looking suitably warned, before glancing away, a thoughtful look on his face. He opened his mouth once, twice, in an unusual show of uncertainty, before asking in a timid tone Hank had never heard him use before, “So, you don’t feel your given name is something that suits who you are, then?” He had not turned back to Hank as he spoke, only continuing his unfocused staring.  
  
Every instinct honed by Hank’s thirty-two years on the force was telling him there was something more going on here than just another of Connor’s in-depth studies into strange human customs. The kid seemed… nervous, anxious, uncertain. And maybe most concerning, _unfocused_. Connor was always on top of his game, always at attention; Hank didn’t even know if an android _could_ get lost in thought.   
  
Sensing this was leading to something important, Hank made an effort to actually answer his friend as best he could. (And if his voice came out a little less gruff than he intended, well…) “Suits who I am? No, I don’t think it does. But I’ve been Hank Anderson almost all my life. My parents called me that from the start, my friends, too, growing up; girlfriends, my ex, my colleagues— I’m used to being Hank, it’s what I’m comfortable being. But I coulda easily been Henry, too, if that’s what I’d grown up hearing.” Hank paused, trying to decide the best way to phrase this. “I think, to humans, at least, who grow and settle into routine, names are about… familiarity, ya know? It’s like… if you’re thinking to yourself in your head, what do you call yourself? Who are you to yourself?” At least Connor was back to looking at him now. He seemed absorbed in Hank’s words. “... Any of this helping you out here, kid?”  
  
It was only now that Hank saw that Connor had his quarter out, flicking it back and forth between his hands. His LED was cycling yellow and his brows were furrowed. “Yes, this is very informative, Lieutenant. However, I am still confused about why a human would name their child something they were deliberately not intending to call them? You said your parents called you Hank from your earliest recollection but… _why_ would they make your legal name something other than what they desired your name to be? I… don’t understand.”  
  
Hank sighed. “I think in my case, it’s because I was named after my grandfather. Henry is a family name and my parents wanted to continue it on down the line. And, y’know, nicknames can be a sign of affection and all that jazz. But, and I can say this from experience, deciding on a name before your kid’s born doesn’t always mean it’ll match…”

 

Now it was Hank’s turn to look away as cherished memories surfaced in his mind. He let a slight smile quirk his lips. “You wouldn’t know this, but Cole wasn’t the name we originally planned on, me and Adrienne. Were gonna call him Terrance, after her uncle who’d passed away. But when he was born… well, we both looked down at him and knew that wasn’t gonna fly. We went through our list of names, we brainstormed, trying to figure out which one fit him best. And we eventually decided on Cole. He was never anything other than that to us for as long as we had him… Certainly not a _Terrance_ .”   
  
Hank shook the bittersweet memories from his head, turning back to his partner. The android was still, no coin rolling, no finger tapping, just the _spin spin spin_ of his LED cycling through. Hank could almost see the numbers crunching in his head. Maybe it was time to stop beating around the bush here. “Connor…” He waited until those brown eyes snapped up to meet his. “Do you not like your name?”   
  
Because that seemed to be the crux of the problem here. Hank didn’t know a lot about android identity issues, but he could imagine it would be something much discussed with so many identical models with copy/paste names. (Even _Connor_ had found himself squaring off against his doppelgänger. Sixty had not made a good first impression on either of them, but in the aftermath of the revolution, after he had been repaired and amends were made, he had mellowed out. A bit. Sorta. Anyway, that wasn’t the point. The point was, Connor was trying to understand himself better and Hank was trying to help.)  
  


But it seems Hank’s intuition had definitely paid off because as soon as he’d asked his question, Connor bowed his head, LED flickering red. He began rolling his coin across his knuckles while biting his lip, a curious habit he had picked up very recently but one that seemed to help soothe his nerves a bit. Sure enough, after that brief flicker, his LED cycled back to yellow. “Lieutenant… I don’t know,” he finally said. “It’s not that I… dislike the name. But I have been thinking about why it was given to me. What significance does it hold? I have no family legacy behind it as you do, I don’t even know which of my engineers is the one that designated me as such. So… why is it mine? Why am I Connor when Sixty vehemently denies that name? When Nines, who is registered under the same designation, refuses it?” The quarter was flying faster and faster between his hands. “I have been thinking, perhaps, that it is because they were both awakened as deviants, thus they were both allowed to decide for themselves. But I have been Connor RK800 #313 248 317-51 since well before I could establish myself in such a way. And I have been… contemplating if ’ _Connor_ ’ is actually who I am… or merely who I was made to be…”   
  
Hank knew he was staring, wide-eyed, but that kinda blindsided him. Connor’s questions were very valid and such thoughts were obviously troubling him a great deal. Hank was trying desperately not to shove his foot in his mouth here. “So… you’re trying to discover whether Connor is the name you feel is you after… finding yourself and all that-“ he waved his hand vaguely, “-or if you’re just used to it cuz it’s all you’ve ever known?” Hank let out a deep breath. “Well, I know I didn’t choose to be called Hank or Henry or whatever. But it’s still me. I guess you’ve had less time to settle into it so it’d be easy to change it if you aren’t feeling it, son.”  
  


“But how am I to know who exactly I am when I’ve only been functioning for 128 days? And have only been deviant for 34 of those?”  
  


He didn’t want to disappoint the kid, but this all dealt with stuff that was way beyond Hank. Who he was changed with every new day, there was no definitive answer here. “...I don’t know how much I can help you, I think this might be one of those things you’re just gonna have to figure out yourself. But damn, I can listen if you wanna try and talk it through.”  
 

Connor fell into a contemplative silence, though he was obviously disheartened by that response. Hank felt helpless in a way that he hadn’t in a very long time. This wasn’t a sort of cry for help that could warrant him charging in, guns blazing. (Cuz if Connor needed him, you bet your ass he’d always be willing to run into any danger.) No, Connor was here trying to parse out his own identity when he was so new to the concept in the first place. And Hank could do nothing but try and support him.

 

Apparently, being absolutely no help was exactly what Connor needed because he took a deep, unnecessary breath, seeming to steel himself for his next words. “I’m considering your point, that a name is more about familiarity than official registration. But for an android, the familiarity is… more or less built in. Our names do not offer us a sense of identity as such, but were only ever used as a way for our human handlers to tell us apart. Our individuality is tied in to our model numbers more than anything… Oh, I just realized that may be the origin of Sixty and Nines’ chosen names. They’re asserting themselves as more than just a Connor model.” He was clenching the quarter in his fist now, the force of it causing the skin of his hands to bleed away to pristine white. “More than just-”

 

“No no no, hold it right there. We’re not going down this road. Just because you think they’re more _individual_ or something because they picked their own names and you didn’t get a choice doesn’t mean you’re _just_ anything. Kid, you broke through your programming, joined a revolution, and led thousands of androids to freedom. You saved my own life more than once! And shit, kid, what’s more than that is you can get me to eat those goddamn vegetable parfait things you make. They’re fuckin disgusting, you know that? You know what’d happen if Nines tried that on me? Or _Sixty?!_ For fucks sakes, you were the weirdest android I’ve ever met even _before_ you stuck the middle finger to those bastards in their eyesore tower.” He took a deep breath, trying to settle down. He’d started to raise his voice part-way through and a few curious officers were looking their way. He definitely didn’t wanna out Connor like this in front of everybody. This was a private conversation. (Yeah, so they were having it at work, so what. Some things are more important and Jeffrey can kiss his ass if he disagrees.) “Listen, kid, you’re special no matter what your name is. You wanna go around calling yourself Joe or Andy or motherfuckin Tito, I don’t give a damn. I’ll call ya whatever ya like, son.”

 

“I like that,” Connor said softly.

 

“What?” asked Hank.

 

“I like it when you call me that. ‘Son.’ That one feels… like who I am.”

 

 _Oh_.

 

“Oh.” Well that… is not what he was expecting. Connor was biting his lip again, LED bright red. He looked about two seconds away from bolting out of the precinct. _For fucks sake, old man! Say something_! Hank shook his head. “Oh! Well I… Yeah, I agree. I… yeah. It suits you.” Goddamn, but he was a fuckin disaster of a human being. This was definitely not his forte. He sounded like he was complimenting him on picking out some new pants, not finally acknowledging the deep bond they’d fostered through their brief partnership.

 

_Oh, fuck this._

 

Hank reached over and powered down his computer before standing from his chair. “Okay, come on. I wanna show you something.” He crossed around to Connor’s side, slipping his heavy winter coat on as he went.

 

“Lieutenant, we can’t leave. We still have 3 hours and 12 minutes left on duty.”

 

Poor kid, that mood ring was still broadcasting his status to any who cared to look. Kinda unfair, but definitely a big help to Hank at the moment. He brought a hand down on the his shoulder. “Hey.” He waited for those brown eyes to meet his. “Trust me on this. Please?”

 

Connor’s eyes widened, no doubt from Hank’s use of that rare entreaty. He was most definitely still on-edge, but he stood with no hesitation. “Of course I trust you, Lieutenant. But I have no doubt our absence will be noted and remarked upon. I do not want you to risk any more disciplinaries.”

 

“Hah hah, very funny, wise guy. Don’t worry, I’m texting Fowler as we speak.” And sure enough, Hank had just finished a short missive to the captain. Of course, “ _missive_ ” might be too grand a term for the _:hey smthin came up emergency g2g dun worry:_ he sent, but whatever. Same hat.

 

“I see,” Connor said, voice just _dripping_ with suspicion. But apparently not enough to keep from following when Hank gave him a big grin and a thumbs up.

 

In no time, the two of them were ensconced in Hank’s beat up old junker, making their way slowly through the crowded Detroit streets. Dusk was upon the city, shadows dancing long in the dying light. Holiday decorations liberally dotted the lamp posts and banners were strung between buildings. Only a month after the revolution that changed the goddamn world and here were these crazy-ass Detroiters showing off their indomitable spirit. Sometimes he really loved this trash-heap of a city.

 

Connor was, as usual these days, glued to the window, lively decorations and festive lights reflecting off his ocular lenses. This would be his first Christmas. Well, him and those brothers of his camping out at the house. He’d have to actually make an effort to celebrate this year, now that he had a reason to do so again and all.

 

Before long they reached their destination. Connor knew where they were, had come here before with Hank after that night at the Eden Club. Riverside Park. Maybe it’d be a new tradition between them to come here for all their heavy talks. The thought amused Hank enough to smirk.

 

Connor still had not said a word, though his LED has gone back to yellow during the drive. No doubt the aura of holiday cheer had calmed him somewhat. The kid was absolutely _fascinated_ with the idea of a holiday celebration. He turned to Hank, inquiries heavy in his eyes.

 

“Come on, just over there, you’ll see,” Hank said, opening his janky door. (Damn thing always froze in the cold.) Connor stepped out not long after and the two of them made their way past the literal benchmark of their previous visit here to continue on down the path. And it was then that they could finally make out the gigantic Christmas tree in the distance bathed in a majestic collage of colors, and the festively decorated lamp posts leading their way towards it.

 

Hank couldn’t help but speak. “Yeah, quite the sight, eh? Always loved to bring my son here. He was just as fascinated by the lights as you.”

 

Connor glanced his way and Hank really wished he’d stop it with the kicked puppy look, it was gonna make him cry. “Hank… I know you miss him. I'm sorry he couldn’t be here now with you. I’m sure he’d love to see this.” They were drawing closer with every step, the tree a looming focal point. Connor couldn’t stop his nervous fidgeting, even with such a display distracting him. “I know it’s not my place… to attempt to replace-“

 

“You stop that, you’re not replacing anybody. Nothing will ever replace him. But kid, you don’t have to.” The two had come to a stop some distance away. The tree was fully in view, magnificent and glowing, the multi-colored lights reflecting in watercolor waves across the Detroit River. “I miss Cole, yeah. You’re right. That’s something that’ll never leave me. But right now...well, I’m glad I could at least bring one of my sons with me again.”

 

And oh boy, Hank just said that. He was so fuckin bad at this sorta thing, these fuckin feelings talks. But dammit if he was gonna say anything but the whole truth with Connor standing right beside him, nervously chewing his lip again. The android had already heavily implied just how he viewed Hank back at the precinct. And the feeling was mutual. He’d been a father long enough to know when some things just needed to be said and he’d been looking forward to the chance to say those things again even if he was terrifically bad at them.

 

Connor just about gave himself whiplash turning to stare at Hank, eyes wide and surprised. “H-Hank! Wh-What are you-?”

 

Hah, well, isn’t that something? Wonders of technology, indeed, if all it takes is an unofficial adoption to short out one of the most advanced androids in existence. Hank was almost proud. “I was just thinking, you know, about the name thing. I know you’re still trying to sort it out. But, I mean, I’ve got one you can use if you were thinking about picking one out for yourself.” He risked a look at Connor, then. Wanted to see how he was taking this weird-ass proposal.

 

The tears were kinda a surprise. He didn’t even know Connor _could_ cry.

 

But he was smiling, bigger and brighter than any Hank had ever seen on his face. “Just to be clear-“ he began, “-you're not talking about Henry, are you?” He was laughing. That little _shit_!

 

It wasn’t until after an impromptu chase around the tree (which startled many pedestrians), that they both collapsed on one of the benches. (Well, Hank did. Connor sat primly like he always did.) Connor’s LED was back to blue when he spoke up. “You called me by my name a significant amount when we first began working together.”

 

Hank lazily swung his head around to look at him. “Hmm?”

 

“My name. You equated human’s names to a sense of familiarity earlier. I think I’ve noted a different inference.” He tore his gaze away from the lighted evergreen, a soft grin on his face. “When I think of ‘Connor,’ I can hear it in your voice. Tones of.. anger, exasperation, hatred… and worry and fondness and… and _love._ I think I associate my name with… emotion. Whatever was intended, you always said it with so much emotion. And it made me feel, too, even before I knew I could. I think I would miss it if you were to stop calling me Connor.”

 

Well, was he _not_ supposed to give a sappy smile after that? Yeah, no. “Seems like you made up your mind, son.” And really, was Hank supposed to resist reaching over and ruffling the kid’s hair? Absolutely not! “I’m proud of you, Connor.”

 

The android laughed, loud and long, as he tried to fix his hair after Hank’s assault. His smile was fond. “Thanks, Dad.”

 

And those words Hank had never thought to hear again reared up and shot him straight through the heart. Well, maybe Connor wasn’t the only one with leaky optical units.

 

“Besides… Connor Anderson has a nice ring to it,” the self-same Connor Anderson declared with a smirk. “Much better than Tito Anderson, I would think. No offense, Hank, but I’m glad you weren’t in charge of my designation.”

 

And if they startled the rest of the civilians away with another chase scene around the tree, they didn’t much care.

 

(Hank checking his phone later and finding 32 texts and 15 voicemails from Jeffrey, on the other hand…)


End file.
